Walking the dog
by Sophia Banks
Summary: *Sherlock adored him of course, in fact when he first saw him he had shouted the fact. When Mycroft first saw him he said very clearly, "I'm not walking him."* Mycroft isn't a huge fan of Redbeard, at least that's what he wants everyone else to think. Only when Sherlock is gone does he allow himself to get even slightly close to the dog.


Mycroft could not for the life of him understand why his parents insisted upon getting the dog.  
The slobbery, out of control ball of wiry red hair that insisted on barking at strangers that rubbed him the wrong way.  
Sherlock adored him of course, in fact when he first saw him he had shouted the fact. "When Mycroft first saw him he said very clearly, "I'm not walking him."

That was his number one rule on the subject, no matter what he wasn't walking the dog!

Mycroft hadn't liked Redbeard that much, the dog insisted on stealing his sandwiches whenever he left the room and ruining his perfectly made bed by sleeping on it.  
In fact, most of the time he enjoyed pretending that the dog didn't even exist. Ignoring his pleads for belly rubs and pats on the head. Instead he would stare furiously at his book or walk straight past it.  
Sherlock didn't care, he was glad to have the dog to himself. Taking him for walks, reading to him even though he insisted he knew that Redbeard couldn't understand him. It was rather sweet actually, even though Mycroft would pretend to wretch whenever he passed.  
"How come you can't be close to Redbeard Myc?" Mrs. Holmes asked softly after she had tried and failed to get her son to take the dog for a walk.  
"Mycroft," her son mumbled under his breath before he spoke up, "I can, I choose not to," he replied calmly.  
Mrs. Holmes merely tsked to that before she left the room.  
He didn't want to be close to Redbeard, the dog -like the rest of his species- was an idiot!  
Besides, caring was no advantage. This creature would die someday, probably in the saddest way possible. He didn't want to have his heart broken.  
Not that his heart _could_ be broken by such an animal- he reminded himself.

Mycroft let out a soft sigh, his book held limply in his pale hand as he sat reclined across the arm of the sofa.  
He had been rather bored without Sherlock in the house, the young boy had stupidly gotten his arm broken after testing something or other by down the stairs.  
"I'm surprised I only got a minor fracture, I was expecting something bigger" he had explained.

Sherlock really needed a new hobby.

Redbeard had been taking his master's absence pretty hard, whining and giving big puppy dog eyes at everyone that passed him. He also insisted on waiting by the door in hopes of Sherlock coming through it, only to end up disappointed.  
Mr. and Mrs. Holmes had taken up walking the dog, Mycroft still refused.

"Shut up Redbeard!" Mycroft shouted as the dog's loud whine spread throughout the room. The dog turned and blinked at him for a moment before he turned around and whined some more. The eldest Holmes brother let out a soft groan of annoyance and resignedly stood up to go interact with the creature in hopes of shutting him up.  
"Sherlock will be back tomorrow," he said, then realized that he was talking to a dog and shut his mouth.  
Redbeard perked up at his master's name for a few seconds but then let out another soft whine, his tail limp. Without warning he pressed his forehead into Mycroft's leg.  
Surprised, Mycroft backed up a step, "Don't do that," he said tersely..._You're talking to the dog again!_  
"Sit," he ordered and Redbeard sat down with a loud thump on the carpet. "Um, good boy," he said with a soft and slightly nervous smile. He put out his hand and gave it a few tentative pats on the dog's head.  
Redbeard's tail wagged enthusiastically at the praise and he looked up at Mycroft for more orders. (ie. more praise)  
The only problem was that Mycroft wasn't sure if he knew any of the commands that Sherlock had taught him, "Um, lie down?"

Nothing.

Mentally he checked that off the list and he continued, "Down!"  
That did it, the dog collapsed to the floor with his head resting on his paws. "Good," the Holmes said with a soft smile, he was actually starting to enjoy himself (even though he wouldn't admit it) and so he knelt down to the dog's level to give him a scratch behind the ears.  
His head fur was soft and it actually felt rather pleasing to scratch Redbeard behind the ears. "You're a good boy," he said quietly, "not bad at least."  
A twinge of fear ran through the eldest Holmes brother as he realized what he was doing, he was becoming attached! Even if only a little bit, he couldn't bare it.  
And so he stood up quickly and strode across the room back to the couch where he picked up the book and then sat down.

Redbeard stood up slowly, confused as to why the petting had stopped so suddenly. He cocked his head to the side before his tail set about wagging again and he bounded across the room to stick his wet nose in Mycroft's face.  
The teenager pulled away, "Redbeard go away!" he ordered.  
Redbeard understood the tone and stopped trying to sniff Mycroft; he let out a soft whine this time much quieter than before.  
Mycroft relaxed into a sitting position and tried to read his book, and it worked for a while. He had made it through several long chapters before the dog interrupted again, this time by placing his narrow head on the teenager's lap.  
Mycroft hadn't been expecting it and so took in a small startled gasp, he looked down at the dog with wide eyes.  
Why did he so insist on being friendly? It wasn't like he was ever nice to Redbeard, he never walked him or fed him in fact he was often shouting at the dog because of the sandwich stealing and bed ruining! Perhaps that was why Sherlock liked Redbeard, with most dogs as long as you didn't hurt them they could go through a lot and still want to please you.

The dog kept glancing at the window and then back at Mycroft. He was starting to suspect that Redbeard wanted to go for a walk.  
"You want to go out," he said hesitantly, realizing that once again he was talking to a dog. "he must want to go out," he repeated, this time as though he was talking to himself which was only marginally better.  
Redbeard whined for the fiftieth time as though he was agreeing with him.  
With severe reluctance Mycroft stood up and went over to the door in the kitchen where the leash was the counter. He picked it up and Redbeard (having been curiously peeking into the kitchen) perked up and ran to his side, this time his tail wagging so furiously it nearly knocked over a chair.  
Mycroft clipped the leash to the dog's collar and then left the house.

Mycroft was halfway to the park when it ultimately it hit him that he was breaking his number one rule!  
"I won't say anything if you won't Redbeard," he joked, not even caring that he was talking to a dog.

* * *

**I'm in a young Mycroft writing mood, and I had the idea for this story for a while. I'm not amazing at writing Mycroft I know that, but if I got even slightly close I'll be happy x)**

**Please review I'd greatly appreciate it! **


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